


The Sweetest Victory

by theartofbeinganerd



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Brief Mentions of Minor Character Death, F/M, Fluff, I tried for a bit of angst and it didn't work, Summer Olympics AU, but it's really just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-10 00:20:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7822972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theartofbeinganerd/pseuds/theartofbeinganerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From Beijing to London to Rio, through personal highs and lows, Fitz has always been there routing for Jemma in her pursuit of the Olympic gold medal, just as she's always supported his own Olympic aspirations. However, when she finally wins her first gold, Fitz takes her completely by surprise with an admission she never expected.</p>
<p>Aka the Fitzsimmons Summer Olympics AU you never asked for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sweetest Victory

**Author's Note:**

> What can I say? I was obviously inspired by the Olympics, which have really been the only thing I've watched recently. However, that being said, I don't sport at ALL. If I got anything wrong, don't be afraid to let me know! I tried to do as much research as I could, but I could've easily missed something. Also, if you have any questions about why I chose the sports that I did, or why I made the decision to have Fitzsimmons on Team USA, feel free to ask me, I'd be happy to answer them!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

_Beijing, 2008_

It wasn’t until Jemma stepped out into the middle of the Olympic stadium to the sight of thousands of people in the stands, waving the flags of dozens of different countries, and to the sound of thunderous cheers that it really hit her just how _enormously huge_ this was.

She felt tiny and vulnerable, standing there under the bright lights and with all eyes on her. She was just fourteen – what was she even doing here? Really, it was all May’s fault. After all, she’d been the one to encourage Jemma to go out for the Olympic gymnastics team. And of course, despite her hesitance, Jemma had trusted her coach’s word – May had been training her since she was six years old and had been an Olympic gold medalist herself, so what had Jemma had to fear?

Plus, Fitz had been just so damn _confident_ in her, insisting that she could do it and that he absolutely believed that she was ready for the Olympic stage.

But, she _had_ only known Fitz for four years, ever since May had introduced her to her old friend Phil Coulson and the young soccer prodigy he was training, both coaches hoping that the two Brits would find a friend in each other – maybe this was proof that she couldn’t trust his decisions yet.

Despite that thought, Jemma squinted and searched frantically for Fitz’s familiar curls and reassuring blue eyes. She’d never had a single meet that he hadn’t attended since they’d met and rapidly become the best of friends, and somehow, she’d found herself looking to him more and more for strength and support, eventually even more so than her parents. Finally, she caught sight of him just behind the barrier where she could see May standing stoically, arms crossed over her chest. He had a giant grin on his face and was waving a handmade poster with her name on it over his head rather enthusiastically.

Feeling it was a bit easier to breath now that she could see Fitz, Jemma forced a wide smile that hurt her cheeks and hurried to catch up with the rest of her team as they got ready for the first event. She could hear the crowd chanting “USA”, and it brought a bit more of a genuine smile to her face to hear the support from their fans, even though they were so far from home. And despite her lingering English accent from spending her formative years living in England, the US _was_ her home (but she of course still supported the Great Britain athletes when she could). Fitz felt the same way about Scotland, and still stubbornly refused to call football soccer, even though his teammates grumbled about it often.

Once the events started, Jemma was able to focus in on the thing she’d always been best at – gymnastics. She could forget about all the people watching, all the Americans with baited breath waiting to see if their countrywomen would make it through to the finals.

By the time that qualifying was over, she was well within the top ten and had only made a few very small mistakes that she fully intended to fix by the time the main event rolled around. She barely made it off the floor before she was being engulfed by hugs from her parents and Fitz and Fitz’s mum (and she found herself on the receiving end of a pat on the shoulder and a small but warm smile from May that was pretty much the equivalent of a hug). She kept insisting over and over through her incredulous giggles that she hadn’t won anything yet, but Fitz adamantly replied, “You will.”

And just days later, at the main event, when she was shocked to find that she’d secured a silver medal, Fitz was the first person to find her, the first person to wrap her up in his arms and hold her to him tightly as she shook with adrenalin. She didn’t know how he got to her so fast – even faster than May, who was on the floor with her – and she dimly registered in the back of her mind that he’d probably jumped the barrier even though May had warned him not to, but all she could really focus on was the fact that she was an _Olympic medalist_.

Automatically, Jemma wrapped her arms around Fitz in return, burying her face in his shoulder as she cried tears of joy, her fingers clutched tight in the fabric of his t-shirt to keep herself secured to him.

The picture of her tearful victory hug with Fitz went viral the very next day, and Jemma was fairly shocked to find her name in the papers and splashed all over the internet, but she couldn’t help be glad that even though he wasn’t in the Olympics with her, Fitz had made it into the media right alongside her. She knew with absolute certainty that she couldn’t have done it without his constant support and friendship, right alongside the amazing support she’d always found in her parents, and he deserved recognition for his part in her win.

(She ended up framing a few of the articles that featured information about her medal win and the picture of her hugging Fitz, even though his ears always reddened in an endearing blush every time he saw them adorning the walls of her bedroom.)

-

  _London, 2012_

For a very long time, Jemma stood before the Olympic stadium, staring up at the arena that had seemed so intimidating four years ago. Now, though, she couldn’t help but think that not much could faze her anymore. For a moment, she almost decided to go back on her promise to Fitz, to say ‘screw it’ and take the first plane back to the US. But, then she took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and dropped her head back to face the sky above.

“It’s all for you,” she murmured, raising one trembling hand to her heart, then to her mouth so that she could press a kiss to her fingertips which she then raised skyward.

Then, with a long sigh, she opened her eyes, blinked away the tears, and prepared to entire the Olympic stadium for the second time in her life – though this time without her parents beside her.

It was almost four years now that she’d been without them – it’d been just over a month after the high of her medal win at the Beijing Olympics that her parents had been killed in a disastrous car accident. For so long after, she’d been lost and scared and absolutely crushed, deep in a depression unlike anything she’d ever experienced. At her lowest, she’d seriously considered quitting gymnastics, no longer having the drive or love for it that she’d had with her parents’ constant presence in her life. However, Fitz had pulled her out of it, convincing her to keep going, that doing so would be honoring their memories, the sacrifices that they’d made for her gymnastic career.

He’d stayed by her side through the many months of drastic lows and her frequent training sessions that ended in tears, held her as she sobbed out her grief into his shoulder, a grim reproduction of the famous snapshot from her Olympic win. After awhile, her devastation turned into determination, and she threw herself back into her training, running herself practically ragged as she gave everything she had to it. But, she’d made a silent promise to herself that she would win a gold medal at the London Olympics for her parents, and she refused to break it. However, even though she was no longer breaking down every so often and the initial sting had dulled, it would never stop hurting, and she was so fortunate to have Fitz with her – she couldn’t have gotten through any of it without him.

“You ready?”

Jemma paused, whirling around to find Fitz heading toward her with an easy grin, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and his jacket with “Team USA” scrawled across the front unzipped to reveal his soccer jersey.

“You’re awfully calm for someone going into their first Olympic games,” Jemma commented, even as she let out a silent sigh of relief – of course she wasn’t alone. Not as long as she had Fitz.

“Oh, don’t be fooled. Inside? I’m a right mess.” Chuckling, Fitz draped an arm over her shoulders, nudging her teasingly with his hip. “I’m pretty sure that jackass Hunter has bets going on whether or not I’m gonna lose my lunch before the first game.”

“Boys are _gross_ ,” Jemma informed him plainly, pulling a disgusted face even as they both burst into laughter at her playful jab, and the sound of their combined laughter lingered as they entered into the giant arena.

There were other athletes spread out all over, and Fitz suddenly said, “Oh! I see Mack! I’ll be right back.” He gave her shoulders a quick squeeze before heading in the direction of the Olympic runner he’d managed to befriend at some point. Jemma had never gotten the full story, but Mack was nice enough and was a good friend to Fitz, not to mention a champion of his respective sport, winning the US his fair share of medals.

However, with Fitz leaving her side, Jemma felt suddenly bereft and uncomfortably alone, shifting from foot-to-foot as she glanced around at the all the other athletes from so many different countries. Just as she was about to head off and try to find the rest of her gymnastics team, she heard, “Jemma Simmons?”

Surprised, Jemma turned, finding a tall, friendly-looking blonde with her hair pulled back in a high ponytail and another girl about her height with chin-length brown hair and curiously quirked eyebrows. “Oh! Yes, that’s me.”

“Was that Leo Fitz you were with?” the brunette asked bluntly.

Jemma was a bit taken aback that she knew who Fitz was, but still answered, “Yes. Who –”

Obviously reading her intended question, the blonde quickly cut in to explain, “I’m Bobbi Morse, and this is Daisy Johnson. We’re on the volleyball team.” With an amused smile quirking her lips, she added, “Daisy is a bit of an internet-addict. She recognized you and Leo from that picture from Beijing.”

“Oh, he hates being called Leo,” Jemma corrected automatically, shaking her head. “He prefers Fitz.”

“I never heard about him being an Olympic athlete,” Daisy said almost…accusatorially, her brows drawing together over her scrutinizing eyes.

“It’s his first year,” Jemma explained with a shrug, a proud smile tugging at her lips. “He’s an absolutely _amazing_ soccer player, and the Olympic coaches finally noticed.”

“It’s our first years too,” Bobbi admitted in a stage-whisper, thumbing between herself and Daisy. “Here’s hoping we don’t make too big of fools of ourselves.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fantastic,” Jemma was quick to reassure them, smiling in encouragement.

And they both did, in fact. Neither received a medal, but their team made it all the way to the semi-finals. Even Fitz’s team made it to their respective semi-finals, and ended up receiving bronze medals, making an amazing comeback after a devastating lose to play for the gold just days earlier.

If anyone made a fool of themselves, it was _Jemma_.

She did fantastically all throughout the preliminaries and qualifying, and her dream of winning a gold medal for her parents was so close, she could practically touch it. Then, in the main event, she was doing her routine on the uneven bars, and it all went to hell in the blink of an eye.

At a pivotal moment, her hand slipped, and she found the ground rushing up to catch her instead of her hands catching her on the bar like they were supposed to. Everything seemed to dull and fade around her, and she heard the gasps of the crowd as though from miles away as her back hit the mats. Tears were already burning her eyes as she got shakily to her feet, absently waving away the people that had moved to help her. She walked off the floor with her head held high and her face expressionless, but as soon as she was out of view of the cameras, she found Fitz (and she didn’t question how he’d gotten to her so quickly, because he was always just _there_ for her, the one thing she could count on anymore) and broke apart in his arms.

“I let them down,” she sobbed into his chest, gripping the soft material of his sweatshirt tightly – it was the only thing anchoring her to reality anymore. “It was all for them and I…I _failed_ , Fitz!”

“ _No_ ,” Fitz argued, his voice soft but his tone firm as he stroked her back through her clinging leotard and pressed his cheek to the top of her head. “You could _never_ fail them, okay? No matter what happens, no matter what you do, they’re always gonna be proud of you, Jemma. There’s no way they couldn’t be.”

Sniffling, Jemma pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, though his face was blurred by the tears filling her eyes. “Do you really believe that?” she asked, her voice just barely a whisper.

“Better,” Fitz replied, a little grin tugging at his lips as he brushed back the strand of hair that always managed to escape her bun and had been sticking to her tear-soaked cheek. “I know it for a fact.”

-

_Rio de Janeiro, 2016_

As soon as they’d stepped off the plane, they’d been bombarded by reporters and photographers, all calling out, “Fitzsimmons! Fitzsimmons!”

Jemma wasn’t sure when or by whom the nickname had been coined, but at some point in the past few years, her friendship with Fitz had become something of a staple in the sporting world, and their constant presences at the other’s respective matches and meets had led to the idea that they were an inseparable duo (which was actually quite true).

In the time since the London games, Fitz had helped his team to quite a few play-off and tournament games for the most recent World Cup, and a status as one of the best in the League, while Jemma had furthered her reputation as a world-renowned gymnast – but she was still seeking that elusive gold medal, and Fitz constantly assured her that this was her year.

Truthfully, Jemma had very briefly considered skipping the Rio Olympics at some point during the previous year. Fitz had suffered an awful leg injury that had kept him out of World Cup qualifying, and it had been speculated that he wouldn’t be healed in time for the games the next year. Jemma, of course, had dropped everything to be by his side, not leaving him for a single second, until she was forced to as he underwent surgery to hopefully accelerate the healing process. However, when she’d attempted to insist that she skip out on the games with him, he’d rather fiercely rejected the notion as “bloody ridiculous” (he’d been spending too much time with Hunter – his British blood had been showing much more than it usually did), and so they’d compromised, agreeing to make sure that they _both_ got to Rio.

In the following months, Fitz made a miraculous recovery (and every time he was asked about it, be it by a friend, a fellow athlete, or a reporter, he always credited it to her despite her insistence to the contrary), and much to everyone’s disbelief, he was competing in the Rio games right alongside his teammates.

So far, the games had certainly been eventful, with Team USA already winning big – and much to Jemma’s excitement, Daisy, Bobbi, and Mack were all doing wonderfully in their own sports and were well on the way to winning medals.

By the time the gymnastics main event came around, Jemma was focused and ready – she wasn’t going to put too much pressure on herself, and she was just going to enjoy it, no matter what happened. She’d come a long way from that girl that was barely a teenager in Beijing and had been scared out of her mind, and even from that dangerously determined young woman in London that was had been far more broken and unhinged than she’d realized. Whatever was going to happen would happen, and she wouldn’t soon forget that her parents would always be proud of her.

Before she got on the bars, she found Fitz’s familiar face in the crowd, and allowed a grin to slip through when she saw him waving a little American flag in one hand and giving her a thumbs up with the other. The sight of him was the last thing she remembered before her focus narrowed to the bars and her familiar routine, and it wasn’t until she’d stuck her landing and was taking in deep breaths of air that she registered the deafening cheers from the crowd. It was then that she realized – she’d executed it perfectly, and was bound for at least another silver, if not a gold.

Then, she saw it.

_A perfect ten_.

In some interview she’d no doubt end up giving much later, she’d inevitably be asked what her first thought was after finding out that she’d won the gold. But, there wasn’t an answer to that question – at least, not one that she would admit to so publicly. Truthfully, the very first thing she thought was, “ _Fitz”_ , and then she was racing for him.

He’d jumped the partition again, even though he’d gotten scolded for it at the Beijing Olympics, and he was there waiting as she fell into his embrace. They were both laughing and crying and his arms are warm and familiar and what had held her together when she’d been falling apart – there was nowhere she’d rather be when celebrating the greatest victory of her life.

Fitz was saying the same thing over and over, and though the crowd was still cheering loudly, all she could hear was him as he told her, “I knew you could do it, I knew it. I always believed in you, Jemma. I knew you could do it.”

Letting out a teary laugh, Jemma reached up to grasp his beloved face between her hands as she admitted through her sniffling, “I could’ve never done it without my best friend’s unwavering support.”

Much to her confusion, his smile faded at her words, and he froze a bit in her arms. Just as she was about to question him, he took a deep breath, then replied in a trembling voice, “Jemma, you’re more than that.”

There was so much happening around her, and the roar of the crowd was beginning to filter back in as she caught sight of May heading toward her over Fitz’s shoulder, so she didn’t quite understand what he was attempting to convey to her. Her brow creased in confusion, and she opened her mouth to ask for an explanation, but then someone was tugging her away from him, and she found herself with an American flag wrapped around her shoulders, so she allowed herself to get pulled into it all.

It was only later, once things had slowed back down and she could run back over their conversation in her mind, that the pieces connected and she understood.

Suddenly desperate to speak with him, Jemma went searching for him. But, he was no longer where she’d left him. When she asked, May informed her that she hadn’t seen Fitz either, not since just after her score had been announced, and Jemma was abruptly terrified that she’d scared him off with some sort of perceived rejection.

She was still looking for him when Bobbi and Daisy caught up to her, wrapping her up in giant congratulatory hugs. Jemma returned them a bit absently, and as soon as they’d parted, she admitted in a rush, “Fitz told me that he has feelings for me.”

Bobbi’s eyebrows rose in surprise, but Daisy let out a harsh gasp, her eyes going wide as she cried out, “No freaking way! I totally _knew_ there was something going on with you guys!”

“Yes, well…” Jemma trailed off, grimacing, then asked a bit desperately, “What do I do? He’s disappeared, before I even got a chance to respond. I’m afraid he thinks I rejected him.”

Bobbi pursed her lips, then smiled sympathetically as she shrugged. “I don’t know if I’m the right person to be asking about this, Jemma.” It was true – she’d been having an on-again off-again relationship with Hunter ever since the London Olympics, and after almost simultaneous big wins in their respective sports, they’d gotten married on a whim. It was within six months that they were divorcing, but just a few months prior to the Rio games, they’d begun dating once again.

“Yeah, I’m probably not either,” Daisy added, her lip curling in disgust as she crossed her arms over her chest. She’d had a brief love affair with her strict personal trainer, Grant Ward, roughly a year ago. It’d ended just as abruptly as it had begun when he left her for an up-and-coming volleyball player that showed quite a bit of promise, Kara Palamas.

Jemma had to admit that they were both right, so she was left to figure it all out herself. He dodged her calls and texts for the next few days, and managed to avoid her at the hotel where they were staying, so she came to the decision that when she attended each of his matches, as she always did, she would be forced to corner him afterward for a now long overdue chat.

However, the US team was doing fantastically, and after each of their winning games, they were swept off for congratulations and celebrations before she could get close enough to speak with him (and Fitz didn’t exactly make it easy on her, disappearing the way he did so soon after each game finished).

Finally, she had her chance at the gold medal match on one of the last days in Rio. Team USA just barely managed a win against Brazil, and as the stands broke into simultaneous cheers and boos (from the home team’s supporters, of course), Jemma forgot all about the fact that he was avoiding her. She didn’t think; she just dashed right out onto the field and straight at Fitz, where Hunter appeared to be whooping right into his ear.

He turned his head at the exact right moment, just catching sight of her as she launched herself at him, and he seemed to catch her only on a reflex. As her arms and legs folded around him, securing herself to him, his eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open, but she didn’t give him a chance to speak. Without a single word passing between them, she kissed him like she’d wanted to since long before Beijing.

It was only a moment before he responded to the kiss, and one of her hands drifted up his neck to tangle her fingers in his sweaty curls as she let out a soft, pleased moan against his lips. His grip on her back and thigh reflexively tightened, and his lips grew a bit more desperate against hers, turning the kiss messier and more passionate and everything she had ever wanted.

When they finally managed to part from each other, she rested her forehead against his and let out a little laugh at the stunned look on his face. Stroking her fingers through his hair and smiling wider than she had even when she’d won her medal, she breathlessly informed him, “You’re more than that too.”

It took mere minutes before pictures and news of their heated embrace in the wake of his team’s victory was already spreading like wildfire on the internet, and the next morning, it was on the front page of all the papers, an even more popular topic than the incredible win.

Suddenly, “Fitzsimmons” had a whole new meaning.

-

_Tokyo, 2020_

Everything had been going perfectly fine throughout the first couple weeks of the Olympics. Jemma effortlessly made it through qualifying, and Fitz was once more helping to lead his team to the soccer finals. Of course, there was even _more_ attention on them during these games than the previous ones – but it was truly their own faults for beginning their relationship in the Olympic arena.

To no one’s surprise, they’d married within a year of the Rio games, and became something of an Olympic “it couple”. As the Tokyo games crept closer and closer, they began to feel the pressure of the world watching to see if they could pull off another set of golds for the US. However, they kept each other strong and focused, frequently reminding each other not to get too caught up in everyone else’s expectations of them.

And it had been working just like they’d planned, up until halfway through her main event routine, when she felt it. It was so strong, in fact, that she was nearly knocked down by the force of it. But, she powered through, and stuck a perfect landing to the roaring applause of the audience. She just barely managed to catch Fitz’s eye before she was rushing off the floor and to somewhere that she _wouldn’t_ find entirely unflattering pictures of herself come morning.

Thankfully, there was a trashcan in the hallway just outside the main arena, and without preamble, Jemma threw up, giving into her abrupt and extreme nausea.

The bout was just passing and Jemma was shakily straightening back up when she noticed Fitz dashing toward her, his eyes wide with concern and fear.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt? Jemma, talk to me!”

Jemma rolled her eyes at her adorably clueless best-friend-turned-husband as he gripped her shoulders, seeming just moments away from shaking her. “ _Ugh_ , Fitz! Isn’t it obvious? I’m pregnant!”

Fitz’s jaw dropped open, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead, and for a long moment, he didn’t say anything (though it was probably more along the lines of him being _incapable_ of saying anything), but then he whispered, “ _Holy shit_.”

He didn’t get a chance to say anything more before May arrived, gently leading Jemma back out onto the floor, where she learned that she’d earned another gold medal, and she was hard-pressed to keep from excitedly cupping her still slim stomach and giving away the secret she’d recently suspected but now felt was confirmed as she smiled big for the cameras.

A few days later, the soccer team pulled off another gold medal victory by a landslide with Fitz on the very top of his game. When he embraced her afterward, he admitted lowly that he’d played his absolute best for her and their unborn baby, and Jemma fell impossibly more in love with him.

Nine months later, after the most effort Jemma had ever put into _anything_ , they were sitting side-by-side in a hospital bed with their baby girl safely tucked into their arms. In hushed voices to keep from waking her, they both agreed easily that bringing her into the world was a much sweeter victory than winning a gold medal could ever be.

(Not that they’d ever say no to a gold medal, that was.)


End file.
